Symphony
by DarkBlaziken
Summary: Everyone has their own melodies, their own stories to tell. 100 drabbles/vignettes/ficlets for the Fire Emblem 100 Themes challenge. Will include characters from FE6, 7 and 8. Theme 2: Departure Preparations. Characters: Matthew, Leila
1. Lord: Raven

**A/N: **So I have decided to take on the 100 themes challenge! Meep, I've a feeling I'll never finish it. Oh well. I realised that I had already done theme 69 (Smile) without realising it. But I'll probably think of something new to write for this; if not I'll just copy and paste that over to this fic.

As for the title of the fic...I called it Symphony because well, it's a medley of _themes_, right? (HAHA I am so lame) But lameness aside, some of the themes do remind me of...music. Like classical music.

**Theme 1:** Lord

**Character(s)**: Raven

**Genre: **General/Angst

* * *

_Lord. _

How he despised that title.

It was an irritating word, a burdensome prefix to the names of those who supposedly were more sagely, more graceful, more _noble_ than those "mere commoners", forcing them to take responsibility for everything that had happened; it was a meaningless word, one that did not reflect anything in the person save a profound sense of elitism; but above all it was a fearsome word, one that not only evoked intimidated reverence in the so-called "commoners", but one that embroiled oneself in the entangling web of political turmoil, of tyranny and corruption and shrewd, calculating manipulation.

It was the title of the green-haired girl, half-Sacaen, who possessed nothing more than a pretty face and some skill with a sword: none of the graces, none of the decorous behaviour of the nobility. It was the title of that vermilion-haired youth, whom everyone thought to be _so_ brilliant, _so_ regal, _so_ perfectly chivalrous, but couldn't survive for two seconds on the battlefield without that old knight of his covering his back. It was also the title of the youth's lumbering friend, the son of his nemesis, the one who had singlehandedly caused the destruction of his family, the collapse of House Cornwell. And that reason alone was enough for him to scorn the title.

And yet, it had once been his title as well.

It was the title which had bound him, tortured him, sundered him from his kin, and driven him from his country. It was the title that caused him to witness the death of his parents. It was the title which had forced his sister to be sent away to Etruria. All because of the fact that he was nobility, because his parents had control over some land and some political power, because they failed to assert their full authority over that land. Human avarice was unrelenting, and any House that was debilitating would have to go.

That was why he had resolved to dispose of it; and once he had done so, it was like breaking through some concrete chrysalis that had restricted him all along: he was free. Free from the condescension of the other Houses, free from the political burdens, free to do anything he wanted without the other nobles scrutinizing every single move of his. For a delirious period of time, he had thought that he had managed to get rid of it forever.

But then reality came back, and he realized that he was never really freed from it; his sister was still alive, and Lucius still acted stubbornly as though House Cornwell still existed. He knew that he had to answer to them, to answer to his fallen house; he knew that he had to seek vengeance for his parents, for his House, for his sister, for himself. It was just another responsibility, one that he could not shirk, because of what he had once been. And that was the reason, above all others, why he had loathed the title so much.

Because he could never run away from it.


	2. Departure Preparations: Matthew, Leila

**A/N:** So, Chapter 2. Kudos to snowylavendermist for sort of giving me the idea. I modified the idea she gave me quite a bit, but its genesis still comes from her.

In other news, SAT IS NOW OFFICIALLY OVER. I JUMP FOR JOY.

And I should finish up that chaptered fic thing I'm doing soon. I'm _still_ on chapter 1, gosh!

**Theme 2:** Departure Preparations (Ho hum, yes. Not very inspiring.)

**Character(s): **Matthew, Leila

**Genre:** somewhat fluffy Romance, Humor, but with not-so-lighthearted foreshadowing.

* * *

"Leila!"

The carmine haired spy in question stopped in her tracks, turning around with an exasperated look on her face.

"What is it now, Matthew?"

He took the opportunity to catch up with her, finally stopping before her, panting. "Well, were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" He said with an exaggeratedly hurt look on his face.

Her eyebrow arched, a perfectly skeptical look on her face. "Do I _have_ to bid you farewell? I mean, it's not like we're not going to see each other again."

"But we won't be seeing each other for a rather long time. Your mission this time is going to last for quite a while, you know—infiltrating the Black Fang isn't going to be an easy task. Have some pity on my poor heart." He sighed dramatically, in a manner not entirely different from Sain's way of wooing the females.

If Leila's eyebrow had gone up any further, it would surely have exceeded the boundaries of her forehead. "You're getting worse and worse with all those melodramatic, mushy lines. Come on, both of us know that they don't work on me. Anyway, it's not like you left for that 'short' trip to Araphen the last time after giving me notice. You were away for, what, six months!" she too faked an accusatory tone, causing the smirk on his face to grow even wider.

"Well, I didn't expect to bump into Marquess Caelin's granddaughter, did I? Either ways, let me get back to topic. Actually, I'm here because you forgot to pack some things. So, being the absolutely wonderful and thoughtful person I am, I've packed them for you. Here." He thrust a small satchel into her arms.

She eyed him suspiciously and peered cautiously into the sack. "You know, I swear that that six months you've spent hanging around Serra has caused part of her irritating personality to rub off you."

"Ah, great. I feel so appreciated, Leila. I run all the way from Castle Ostia to the main gates, and all I get is an unqualified accusation? Surely I deserve a word of thanks, at least."

"No, I'm not going to thank you until I find out what's in the bag first. The last time you 'prepared' my backpack for me, you stuffed a live frog inside the sack." She stuck a hand in and felt around, finally withdrawing a number of small glass phials. She looked at them, frowning. "Poison? You know I don't like using that."

"Sedative, actually. It's less messy this way; the person relaxes so there won't be signs of struggling when you kill him. Anyway, it's useful for getting out of a tight situation. There are more than just sedatives inside that pack, by the way."

She did not need his prompting; she had already drawn out a pack of jagged throwing stars, a few gum inserts for changing one's jaw shape and a pair of spare knives. She fiddled around with the stars for a while, throwing one experimentally at a tree branch. The star sliced through the wood easily, curving in a huge arc before returning obediently to her hand. "These things are pretty good," she commented, examining the star carefully; there was not a single sign of a scratch on the four-pointed object. "I hate to admit this, but I've never thought of using these before."

"They work better than throwing knives," Matthew explained. "But try not to do what you just did—if you're not careful, trying to catch them when they come back may cause you to lose your fingers."

She smiled her devilish, mischievous grin. "Don't worry, I'm better than you." She stuck her hand into the bag again, and this time, she pulled out a rather big piece of cloth, belted on one edge and coloured a rather lurid shade of yellow.

She stared disbelievingly at it for a full ten seconds before bursting out into laughter, clear and tinkling. "Oh, Elimine, Matthew! That's some dress sense you have there; you expect me to wear _this thing _as a cloak?"

"Well, I was thinking of a colour that would blend in better with the earth..." Matthew said defensively. "You have to admit, it would hide you well when there's dim light…"

"You're one to lecture me on how to make myself inconspicuous, Matthew," Leila retorted just as quickly. "You walk around in that bright red cloak of yours everyday. And this is a rather…bright…yellow…" despite her complaints, she still put the cloak on, a hint of a small smile on the corner of her lips. "What's that you've got in your pocket?" she asked suddenly.

He started slightly. It seemed that he had unconsciously slipped his hand into his pocket to fiddle with the ring that he had hidden there. It was a rather pretty thing, shaped like a phoenix spiraling up to the zenith, its eyes set with glistening rubies the exact same shade of red as Leila's eyes. He had bought it for a hefty price from the jeweler in Araphen on his last trip, and he had honestly intended to give it to her once he came back from his journey. But for some reason or the other, he just kept putting the matter off. Every time, when he had resolved to give it to her the next day, he would not be able to bring himself to say the words that went along with the gift when the day actually came.

He had told himself that he would give it to her before she left on her next mission. But when the day finally came, again, he found himself hesitating, his mind telling him to put it off to when she comes back. _What's the point of getting her hopes up right before she starts on a mission anyway? It'll distract her,_ his mind reasoned, and it seemed like a rather sound argument. _You'll have time when she comes back from this mission, won't you?_

"Matthew? Are you still there? You've been staring off into space and you still haven't answered my question. What _is_ that thing you've got in your pocket?" Leila waved her hand experimentally in front of his face, snapping him abruptly from his thoughts.

"Huh? What's in my pocket? Nothing important, really," he lied easily.

She gave him a doubtful, penetrating look, but declined to inquire further. "Alright then, I guess I'll leave now." She turned around and walked away deliberately slowly, as though she was purposely giving him the chance to call her back and tell her what he should have told her. He struggled mentally with himself for a while, his determination vacillating, teetering on the edge. Then finally, he blurted out her name:

"Leila!"

She turned around and gave him an all-too-knowing glance disguised under an innocently questioning quirk of an eyebrow. Those almost expectant eyes made him swallow back what he nearly had had the courage to say again. "I…just…finish this mission quickly and come back as soon as possible, alright?" he finished lamely.

He knew she was going to roll her eyes, turn his back on him and leave for good now, and he mentally chided himself for having wasted another chance. But the gaze in those keen fiery eyes suddenly softened, and the voice that had come from her was unexpectedly gentle as well: "I will."

Then she was gone, yellow cape fluttering in the wind, a retreating smudge in the horizon; he watched her dumbly for a moment, still absentmindedly fingering the ring in his pocket, until she vanished into the settling dusk. Then he smiled to himself.

_That's right. I'll have time when she comes back from this mission._


End file.
